Healer's Wedding (Fallowtide Sequence 1)

Nearly a year has passed since the conclusion of the Chatcaavan War... which means it's time for Jahir and Sediryl to marry, and Sediryl to kneel for the coronet of the imperial heir! All their allies are gathering to celebrate, from the expected, like the Queen Ransomed and Lisinthir, to mentors and friends from years past. But life doesn't pause for momentous events, no matter how joyous or anticipated. There are issues Jahir and Sediryl have yet to resolve, issues that reflect the greater challenges besetting their world and the Alliance. Before they can join hands for the wedding cloth, they'll have to face at least one of those challenges... and it won't be the first.

Healer's Wedding, Book 1 in the Jubilee Summer duology, brings together the characters from Her Instruments, Dreamhealers, and Princes' Game for a capstone season of politics and pleasure. Return to the homeworld of the Eldritch and the company of friends!

Genre (setting): space opera (Pelted)
Tags: politics, space elves; multicultural; city building; feel-good story 
Rating: R for references to adult relations, difficult family relationships

Excerpt from Chapter 1

                  The trips to the experimental plots constituted the easiest and most enjoyable of Sediryl’s new duties, though she didn’t begrudge the work, and in fact found most of it fascinating. Still, she didn’t love Ontine’s stone walls. By any species’ standards, they couldn’t be called ‘close’ when the Eldritch preferred to allow several feet of clearance between themselves when walking down them, but Sediryl preferred to be outside. She let out a resigned sigh as she approached the suite Liolesa had bestowed on her, ignoring Qora’s amused ear-twitches.

                  “Not a word,” she said to the Faulfenzair.

                  “Did I say anything?”

                  “No, but you were thinking it.”

                  “Ah, now she’s a mind-reader.” He grinned, all teeth, as Sediryl wrinkled her nose at him before she remembered that nose-wrinkling in Faulfenza was a form of laughter. “Don’t worry, Princess. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, loving to be beneath the God’s sky more than beneath His people’s roofs.”

                  “If you could convince the rest of the Eldritch that…?”

                  “Given how stubborn they are? Good luck,” Maia muttered, and Qora chuckled.

                  “At least my paperwork won’t talk back,” Sediryl said as she pushed open the door… and came to an abrupt halt.

                  “No need to rise,” Valthial drawled in Universal. “Though I have a ring here you can kiss if you’re feeling like a naughty girl who’s been avoiding her lessons. Because you have been.”

                  The High Priest of the Lord and God was as unlikely an Eldritch as any Sediryl had met: short, wiry and energetic, with the sharply pointed face of a fox and hair cropped at his chin… not because he’d lost his mane to an enemy, the way Lord Hirianthial had, but because he liked it that way. He spent most of his time in attire humble to the point of insult—to courtiers, anyway—rarely demanded the respect due his office, and far preferred to be addressed as ‘Val’, particularly by people he knew well.

                  Sediryl was on those terms with Valthial, and she didn’t know why… because she’d spent most of their time together explaining why she couldn’t attend the interminable training foisted on anyone with even the slightest of mage talents. She’d seen her fiancé’s schedule of classes; she simply didn’t have time to become a mind-mage while also stepping into Beth’s shoes. Particularly if she wanted to prove that she was an adequate replacement for a woman who’d been in the job for decades.

                  Val had always seemed so understanding. Being ambushed like this was new. She forced herself to walk past him to her desk, sat at it, and folded her hands on its surface. “I think I’ll skip the ring-kissing.”

                  “Good, because that would have been weird.” Val crossed his legs and folded his arms behind his head. “You know why I’m here.”

                  “As Qora just pointed out to me, I’m not psychic.” She smiled crookedly. “So why don’t you tell me, so I can reiterate all the reasons I can’t accommodate you.”

                  “Nice job on the tone,” Val said, grinning. “A century or two and you’ll be sounding like her all the time.”

                  Sediryl couldn’t decide whether the prospect delighted or dismayed her. Liolesa never spoke without thinking at least three steps ahead of the person she was facing, and while Sediryl coveted the ability she wasn’t looking forward to never being able to open her mouth without playing a game of mental chess first. “Since you know why I can’t say ‘yes’, why are you here?”

                  The levity dropped from him like a discarded domino. “Because you can’t keep saying ‘no.’ I know you’re busy, Sediryl. I know what you’re doing is important. I know you need to prove to people that you’re the woman for the job, even without Beth making it harder with her adorable letters from the back of beyond, and I know you have a wedding and an investiture to prepare for. But you’ve got an untrained talent, and it’s one of the most volatile talents in our roster. Without mastery, it’s going to hurt you or someone else.”

                  “You say that as if you’re sure of it,” Sediryl said.

                  “I am sure of it, because the only two Eldritch who’ve ever manifested your talent have self-immolated.” He paused, his eyes far too sober. “Not intentionally. They died that way, in firestorms they conjured in fits of strong emotion.”

                  The memory of the pirate base, of the eruption in her mind, in her heart, of waking up in the hospital after weeks of lying near death… Sediryl inhaled sharply.

                  “And since I’m a bastard, I’m going to go ahead and say it: they died the way you should have, and didn’t, because you were saved by your friends. This isn’t optional. Nothing you’re doing right now will matter if you die before you finish it.”

                  “You… you make it sound dire enough,” Sediryl said.

                  “And I’m not into dramatics,” Val replied. “All I want is an hour of your time here, at the Cathedral.”

                  “A week?” Sediryl asked, hopeful.

                  “A day.”

                  “A day!” Sediryl exclaimed. “Val I don’t have an hour a day! I’m not even at Ontine every day!”

                  “Then you’ll have to find a way—”

                  “And I’m telling you…”

                  Qora said, casually, “I will handle her education.”

                  Both of them stopped short. Val cocked his head, peering at the Faulfenzair.

                  “And I will make sure she practices daily,” Qora continued. “Unlike you, High Priest, I am free to hunt her in her native habitat.”

                  Val paused, then laughed. “Even when she migrates?”

                  The Faulfenzair showed his teeth, nose wrinkled. “She won’t escape me.”

                  Val considered the alien for several long moments. Then he rose. “That’s acceptable to me. If you get tired of dealing with her, though…”

                  “I will send her back. Don’t worry, I’m no martyr.”

                  Val guffawed. “I bet you aren’t.” He glanced at Sediryl. “Don’t think of this as a reprieve.”

                  “No,” Sediryl hastened to reply.

                  “And I expect some progress.”

                  “She’ll progress,” Qora said affably. “Or I’ll know the reason why.”

                  Val laughed. “Hah! You’re going to wish you’d said ‘yes’ to me, Sediryl. Good luck.” He inclined his head to Qora. “Thank you, alet.”

                  “My pleasure, High Priest.”

                  Val sauntered out, pleased if his whistling was any indication. He was the only Eldritch Sediryl had met who could whistle. Or admitted to knowing how, anyway. And the moment the door closed behind him, she exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Qora.”

                  “For what?” the Faulfenzair asked. “You think I have saved you from trouble? You think I was rescuing you? I am a harder taskmaster than any Eldritch priest. They don’t know what mastery looks like—obviously, or their last fire talents would not have killed themselves.” He shook his head in excellent mimicry of the Pelted gesture, and even managed to purse his lips and look regretful. “No, Princess. I’m afraid you will give me an hour every day. To Dance, and discuss fire, and the God.”

                  “An hour!” Sediryl exclaimed. “Qora… where am I going to find another hour in the day?”

                  “There’s always that nice quiet period before the sun rises,” Maia said helpfully.

                  Sediryl let her head drop into her arms with a groan.

                  “You like getting up before the sun rises!”

                  “Yes,” Sediryl said into her arms. “I do. To pull weeds, and wander crop rows, and eat breakfast, and shower, and read mail, and catch up on news. Not to work at something I’m bad at.”

                  “Then,” Qora said cheerfully, “you’d better get good at fire, quickly!” When she moaned again, he padded to her desk and twisted his head to look into the space between her fallen hair and her forearm. “There, there, Princess. If you put in an hour a day, even you can’t stay bad at psychic powers for long.”

                  “Not helping…”

                  He patted her head. “We will practice outside, at least.”

                  “Stone walls might have been better if she’s going to set things on fire,” Maia opined.

                  “Being surrounded by flammable things will give her incentive to progress faster!”

                  Maia said, “You know, sticking with Val might have been safer.”

                  “She’ll regret it,” Qora agreed. “That’s how I’ll know I’m doing it right.”